To the Rooftop
by vvnghs
Summary: He's falling and a bright-eyed, brash boy holds him up before he reaches the ground. Five years later, he's falling once more and there's no miracle boy to save him now. [OC-Centric]


Shadows stretch for eons and eons. They will never stop existing as long as something is there. They leave once the light is cast upon them, in silent screams and come back once the light looks away. They're darker, inky and black, ominous in a way that no sci-fi monster could ever compare to, when the light is brighter—harsher. They prowl on in the day and roam during the night, latching onto the weak like a parasite. They slowly eat away at you, corrosive—like poison.

"_BUTA! BUTA, BUTA!"_

The boy falls to the ground, and nobody is there to catch him. Not really. His knee scraps against the rocks, and tears are leaking out of his eyes, but nobody comes—not yet. His limbs feel heavy—they _are _heavy; it's the reason he's been pushed down like some invalid, and kicked upon like yesterday's trash. He shrivels unto himself, sucking in his stomach to the best of his abilities until it feels like he's going to throw up his entrails, until he can't breathe.

"_OI_!" A voice shouts. "_WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?_"

Children gather all around to laugh, and scatter when their shameful actions are called upon; shadow to light. They scream with panicked voices—_oh shit, it's the Kujo bastard, go, go, go!—_while some are more tenacious, stubborn in all the wrong ways, and try their best to stick to existence in the presence of blinding light.

It doesn't matter. Not to Jotaro Kujo's fists anyways.

The more rounded boy, on the ground and hands around his head, peaks up to see the other boy—a skinny runt throwing a flurry of punches that overwhelm the other kid. And it's like everything had stopped. His breath was blown away, oxygen knocked out of his lungs in another way and it seems like Jotaro Kujo, who had an outraged looked on his face, was like some guardian angel.

The taller child—_bully_, squeaks from his downed, pitiful position once Kujo deigns him with a glare and scrambled up to his feet, tail between his legs, and dashes. The Kujo boy scoffs, kicks a rock at his feet and turns to the injured boy.

"Oi," he said, in their silence, "what are you still doing on the ground?"

Shadows are everywhere. They will never go away, bringing darkness, and everything that the injured boy hates, but—

There will always be light. (_It's going to be okay.)_

"Ah-oh— I, sorry," he mumbled, struggling to his feet.

Jotaro Kujo sighs, rolls his eyes and hobbles over with exaggerated annoyance—_a thing he has yet to perfect in his early adolescence, a shame_—and slings the boy's arm over his shoulder. He grunts at the added weight when the boy leans on him heavily, struggling to balance the two.

"Agh—you're so damn heavy!"

"S-Sorry!"

"Tch," Jotaro clicks his tongues, but continues to drag the other, stubborn in all the right ways. "Whatever, just, come on. We can go back to my house and my mom can help you with the scrapes."

"Bu-but," the other boy stuttered, eyes wide.

"But, whatever! The old lady can just sort it out!" He rebuked.

Then, he glanced at the boy from the corner of his eye, before looking the other way. "We can go get ice cream if you do," he huffed, in a way that suggested that he didn't.

"Oh." The boy looks at him and smiles widely, pearly white teeth glinting in the light and gums showing, as he stops resisting the pull.

"Okay."

**PROLOGUE**  
**MID-DRIFT**

"Gah!"

The boy—now no longer a snot-nosed brat whose lifespan had only total up to the amount of 6 years, but 13, had cowered to the corner, stock still as he watches the daily occurrence of Jotaro Kujo beating up bullies. His stomach is throbbing with dulling pain at being kicked at, and his fingers are aching when he had pressed them against the dirty toilet tiles just a few minutes ago.

_("Come on, Pikachu! Pikachu, pikachu!"_

_"Yeah, yeah! Don't make us demote you back to pig again!")_

He jerks, hating himself a little bit more than he already does, when he feels his heavy, and round stomach resist the force. Conflict _stirs_, boils slowly inside the person of _Haruto Hideyoshi, _like soup set on low heat.

Jotaro Kujo straightens, wipes his knuckles with a sneer and turns, finished with the bullies. "Come on, Haru," he says and Haruto follows after him like a lost puppy.

It's a routine, he adds in thought, one that's so familiar, he can retrace each action in grotesque detail.

_Whatever_.

He smiles, bright eyes look upon Jotaro. "I heard that there was a new cafe that opened not too far from our homes, JoJo. Wanna go after school?" He grinned.

Jotaro stares at him, eyes squinted before turning away, huffing. "If you really want to." He muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Haruto laughs, "Alright." And there's a small skip to his steps. "I heard they serve Taiyaki there. I wonder if they have Taro filling..."

The lankier boy rolls his eyes. "Good grief..." he mumbled as the other one had started to ramble quietly about Taiyaki flavors. Despite his exasperation, Jotaro tips his head down as his lips curve upwards into a smile.

Sometimes, the golden days just happen to be shadowed over; the warm hues and bright light of _his _world, snuffed. Happy days don't last long. Not for people like him, anyways.

**PROLOGUE:**  
**MID-DRIFT**  
**END**


End file.
